


Talk to Him

by Syran



Series: Batboy [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alfred is the best thing to ever happened to his family, Angst, Arguing, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Dick is a shitty brother, Dick's trying though, Gen, Jason is the bigger man for once, Literature Buff Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syran/pseuds/Syran
Summary: Because anger just isn't enough sometimes....Sometimes the best solution is to just talkJason has a hard time dealing with Bruce and Dick's constant fighting. Dick is simply tired of Jason. Both of them come to learn a valuable lesson of what talking can do, and Dick catches a glimpse of the boy that hides behind all of Jason bravado.





	Talk to Him

The door slammed shut and Jason could hear his books as they rattled in the bookshelf. He’d usually reach out for them, try to stabilize them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew that another door was bound to slam, and his books would rattle once again. He sighed; he was honestly getting tired of fixing things.

“I don’t need you dictating everything I do, Bruce,” an angry voice bellowed from the hallway and, just as Jason predicted, another door slammed. This time the slam was close by, and the resulting rattle was strong enough to knock _The Fall of the House of Usher_ from off the high shelves.

Jason reached out across his bed, barely catching the book between his outstretched fingers. Boiling with anger, he sat the book carefully onto his luxury mattress and stormed out of his room. It was time for him to slam some doors. Golden boy might have thought that he knew anger, but no one knew anger like Jason Todd knew anger.

“Yo,” Jason addressed Dick Grayson’s closed door. “Open the fuck up,” he yelled. He banged on the door when he received no answer. The sides of his hands were turning red from the onslaught. “Oh,” the boy said with a scoff, “Ran outta steam already?” He turned then, placing his back towards the door before raising his knee and slamming his soles onto the well polished wood. “C’mon Goldie,” he mocked before kicking the door harder. “I thought you had somethin’ to prove,” he continued, “Thought you had somethin’ to say! You gonna bitch out now!”

“Master Jason!” Jason paused with his knee to his chest. He knew that well aged voice from anywhere. “What on Earth are you doing?” Alfred looked down to the boy, frown fixed on his aged face. Jason instantly deflated. He hated to admit it, but he never liked the wrinkles that formed around Alfred’s mouth when he frowned. He liked them even less when he was the reason that they were there.

Jason pushed off the door, shoulders shagged and face guilty. “You know that I was gonna clean that up right,” he asked as he pointed to the scuff marks that littered the bottom of the door. The butler gave the remorseful boy a curt nod because he indeed knew that Jason would come back later in the night, once everyone was asleep, and clean the door. However they both also knew that the state of the door wasn’t the true problem here. “C’mon Alf,” Jason beseeched, “You know he’s wrong! You know they’re both wrong.”

The butler squatted to the other’s level and placed a patient hand on his shoulder. “I do know,” he began lowly. He then let his voice rise so that the other two, who he knew were listening, could hear him.  “I know that they were wrong. I know that they shouldn’t be yelling and slamming doors,” he continued, “I also know that you have every right to fuss about it because, whether they like to admit it or not.” The old man paused, letting his words travel heavily among the marbled floors. “This affects you too,” he finished.  “However,” his voice lowered once more. He was talking specifically to Jason then and the boy appreciated the fact that his faults were kept between only them. “There are better ways to express yourself,” he told the boy.  “Assertiveness is good,” he reassured, “Tackling problems bravely and head-on is admirable, as I’m sure Henry has taught you.” Jason smiled as the man referenced his favorite Shakespearean character. “Yet, it has its consequences,” he finished. Alfred then stood, moving his hand from Jason’s shoulder to ruffle his hair. “You’re trying to end a war, not start one,” he said, “No need to turn these tennis balls into cannonballs, dear.”  

“Then what should I do,” Jason questioned back. Alfred frowned and Jason instantly knew what his answer would be. “There’s nothing I can do,” he said, “Is it?” The butler shook his head and Jason felt as if weights were piled upon his small shoulders. He was tired of watching people fight. He was tired of hiding in his room as his love ones screamed at each other. He didn’t want to jump at loud noises and slammed doors anymore. “I thought I finally got away from all of this,” he murmured.

Alfred used his hold in Jason’s raven hair to pull the boy to his waist. Jason instantly wrapped his arms around the other, snuggling his wet face into his prim waistcoat. The butler ran his wrinkled fingers through the other’s soft curls and let the boy hide his fears within his uniform. Both knew that once Jason rose, his face would be dry, his eyes only a little irritated, and the tears would have disappeared into Alfred’s black suit. However for now, Alfred held on as Jason let go. “I’m sorry, dear,” the butler whispered, “I thought you finally escaped it too. I’m so sorry that’s not true.”

* * *

 

The railing was cold underneath Dick’s palm. The sweat that gathered there made his hand stick to the icy surface, and it rubbed uncomfortably as he toed slowly down the stone steps.  He felt the urge to vault it, to bypass the stairs entirely, but he held back. The teen didn’t think that he was ready to be back in the Batcave just yet. So he took his time, taking each stone stair one at a time.

He slowly turned the bend and saw the beginning of a dinosaur’s snout, and Dick couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped him when he caught eyes with it. “Bruce kept it,” he breathed. He quickly skipped down a few more steps to get a better view, and there stood the giant T-rex in all its glory. “Bruce kept it,” he whispered. A smile unknowingly blossomed along Dick’s face and the dread that took root in his chest began to unfurl. He wasn’t as forgotten as he once thought.

He hobbled down a few more steps, the cold handrail abandoned in his haste.  “The penny,” he said as he sped pass. “The giant Joker card,” he exclaimed. He excitedly hopped down the last three steps, the dismount extravagant and reckless, yet practiced and perfected. It was the type of dismount that would drive Bruce crazy. “It’s all here,” he breathed once he touched the bottom. He stood in the middle of the Batcave and gave a giddy chuckle. “I thought Bruce would have thrown all of this out,” Dick said with his wiry arms flailing about, “I thought he thought it was junk.”

“Why would he think that?” Dick paused, his wildly gesturing arms falling lifelessly to his sides. He could feel the happiness drain from his body, and suddenly he remembered why he felt forgotten. He remembered why he felt so slighted and so angry. He remembered Jason Todd. “Am I interrupting something,” the boy murmured.

Dick turned after the other spoke. He didn’t expect the boy to murmur. For as long as Dick knew him, Jason Todd never spoke so softly – so uncertainly. Instead, Dick expected the boy to drape those words in sarcasm, haughtiness and pride. Yet, when he finally took the boy in, he saw honest concern. The younger was honestly concerned that he disturbed Dick. Dick frowned. He didn’t know this Jason – the Jason that looked down and nibbled at his bottom lip as he waited for someone else’s response. What happened to the kid that was ready to kick his door down not too long ago?

The two stared each other down, both quiet and completely uncomfortable. Dick knew that he should give a response, kindly tell the boy that he was welcomed, but spite kept Dick from speaking. He didn’t have to though, Jason (as always) beat him to the punch.

Instantly the vulnerability that caught Dick’s attention erased from his face. “Look,” the younger boy snapped into the silence. His expression hardened, and his street bred attitude came to the forefront. Finally Jason was the angry boy that Dick knew; the angry boy that Dick could hate. “If you want me to leave then just say so, punk,” he said. His Gotham drawl drenched every word in hatred. It made him sound threatening and vicious. “I didn’t _ask_ to be here,” he growled.

Dick hissed in an angered breath. Jason’s anger was always venomous and _contagious_. It spread like wildfire, setting everything in the vicinity ablaze. It dug deep and made everyone just as vicious as him. Dick knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. He shouldn’t raise to the bait, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to Jason. The boy was just so abrasive, raw and aggressive – real. The boy had the type of anger that could fuel revolutions, make changes, but it also disregarded the innocents that were caught in the crosshairs. Dick didn’t know if he admired the boy’s uncontrollable flame or if he despised it.  “You know what,” Dick finally spoke, his words bursting hot and harshly from his lips like steam from a ruptured pipe. “Leave,” he ordered. “Not only are you not needed here,” Dick continued as Jason’s anger ignited his own, “You’re not wanted here either. Go back to the gutter you came from.”

The boy flinched as if he was hit, and hurt flashed quickly in his teal eyes. Dick breath hitched when he caught a glimpse of the reaction. Yet his remorse was short lived. Before Dick could even fully process the expression, Jason brows frowned in anger again. His fists were balled at his sides, his shoulders tense. In any other situation, Dick was sure that the boy would have hit him across his jaw by now. Instead, Jason just stopped. His shoulders loosened, and a dangerous smirk crawled along his face. He loosely hooked his thumbs into his pockets and turned his nose up. Fire burned in his eyes.

“You really wish I would, don cha,” Jason said smugly, “You really fucking wish I would.” He then stocked up to Dick, looking all of six feet tall despite not even reaching five yet. “You’re threatened by me,” he said, and Dick could feel the words as they whittled at his pride. Then Dick watched as Jason’s smug smirk turned into a sorrowful frown. The pride fizzled out him. Dick eyed him, confused by the various emotions that played out behind his teal eyes.

“If only you knew,” Jason sighed as he roughly dug into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “No one’s filling you shoes, Golden Boy.” Dick watched as he fiddled with the pack. Jason’s hands were moving, squeezing the flattened pack and checking for spares, but his eyes were solely focused on Dick. He snorted once he noticed Dick staring at his bad habit. “I can never fucking replace the great Dick fucking Grayson,” he bellowed, and the declaration echoed clearly off the cave’s walls as if they agreed, “You’ll always be Bruce’s favorite. That man gives you all of his attention and you still bitch at him.” He scoffed angrily as he finally broke eye contact with Dick to kick at a loose rock. They both watched it as it skipped away from them, silent until Jason spoke again. “You have no idea,” he said softly to the cave floor. His teal eyes softened with affection that Dick knew wasn’t for him, “What I would give to have somebody care – to have someone ask me where I was last night, or why I didn’t come home.” He looked Dick in the eyes once more. His teal eyes were stormy and wise beyond his eleven years. “You really don’t know how good you got it, Golden Boy,” he spoke.

“I,” Dick began but he instantly silenced himself. He didn’t even know where to start. Instead he stayed silent and watched as the boy turned to tap his pack of Newport’s to his fingers, fishing out a stick. Dick watched as the boy expertly tugged it between his lips and brought a decretive zippo out of his pocket to light it. He felt that he should stop the boy from smoking – do something that was expected from a big brother – but he also felt that he didn’t have the right.

“Look,” Jason spoke. His paused to take a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The fumes waft around his face. It caressed his round cheeks and redden his already blushed skin. His childish features contrasted so drastically from his adult actions, but to Dick, smoking fitted Jason. The smoke from his lips spoke of the fire that burned within his chest. “Think whatever you want about me,” Jason began. He took another drag, but didn’t bother to blow out the smoke before he spoke again. “I ain’t shit,” he squeezed out. When he finally blew he blew it directly in Dick’s face. “But don’t fuck around with Bruce,” Jason said, “I don’t know what’s going on between you. I don’t know how he fucked up.” Dick rose an eyebrow. So Jason knew that Bruce messed up. “Trust me,” Jason said with a smirk. The devious half smile was the most pleasant expression Dick’s seen on Jason’s face. “I know Bruce was the one to fuck up,” Jason said, “He’s always fucking up, but it doesn’t matter. Just fix it.”

Dick startled at the command. It was so simple, too simple. “Just fix it,” Dick scoffed in disbelief. He shook his head. “It’s not that simple,” he said, “Nothing is that simple.” Jason looked at Dick, his eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his face. The expression cause Dick blood to boil. How dare this kid just belittle him and his concerns. “You have no idea what he did,” Dick bellowed. He started to pace, fist balling at his sides. His hatred was building in his chest, begging to be unleashed on this boy before him. “Bruce disrespected me,” he fumed, “My mom! I can’t just shake that off!”

Jason took a slow drag from his cigarette, hitting the filter before he chucked it and smashed it under his feet. “Yeah you can,” the boy shrugged, “You just don’t want to.” He then looked Dick in the eye. His expression was soft, understanding. Dick didn’t think that Jason could make such a compassionate expression. “I’m telling you, man,” he said, “You can’t hold on to that type stuff.” He moved to the stairs, taking them two at time until he reached the top. Dick watched as he ascended. The steps to big for him to climb and he was only a half of foot taller than the railing. Dick was shocked at how child-like he looked. How childlike he _was_. “Just get over yourself,” Jason called from the top of the steps, “That old man needs you. Talk to him and you’ll see what I mean.” The hydraulics that held the cave door released with a soft movement of air before it softly closed shut, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts.  

“Talk to him,” Dick whispered to himself, “I wish it was that easy.” Then again, maybe it is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for my favorite batboys!!! I showed a little Jason and Tim, this time I wanted to delve into Jason and Dick. As you can clearly tell, I really love me some Jason Todd. So consider this some Jason praise through the eyes of Dick. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. Hopefully I'll be posting some more fics with the batboy. (Maybe even add Bruce next time...)


End file.
